Filthy Lies (Akopov Bratva Book 2)

They say monsters need love, too, which is probably why this church is bursting with them.

Six months after the last of our problems was scrubbed out of existence, we stand inside the gilded sanctuary of St. Basil’s Cathedral to watch two other reformed monsters exchange vows.

Anastasia is breath-stealing in her couture gown, a confectioner’s dream of white silk and handmade lace that hugs her torso before cascading outward, framing her like a vengeful angel.

Daniil stands beside her, his face composed but eyes burning with an intensity that penetrates the solemnity of the occasion.

Between them and our pew, dozens of men who’ve killed without blinking sit in their Sunday best, weapons undoubtedly concealed beneath Savile Row tailoring.

No one ever said two rival crime families merging together would be a neat and tidy affair. But so far, everyone has been on their best behavior. Mostly.

Sofiya squirms in Vince’s arms, her chubby legs kicking against his black suit. At eighteen months, she’s a force of nature—Vince’s blue eyes, my stubborn chin, and a temper that’s pure Akopov.

“Stay still, princess,” Vince whispers against her dark curls, his voice honey-rough. “Almost done.”

She pats his face in response, her tiny fingers tracing the silver streaks in his beard with fascination.

“Papa,” she croons, loud enough to echo through the ancient rafters.

Several heads turn, including Grigor’s, who sits three rows ahead on the bride’s side. My father’s expression softens when he sees Sofiya, and he offers a subtle nod that Vince returns with equal restraint.

This fragile peace between them still astounds me. Six months ago, I’d have bet my life that one would kill the other before year’s end. Instead, they’ve achieved something resembling mutual respect, united by shared blood and common enemies.noveldrama

The priest finishes the ceremony, and Daniil kisses his bride with an intensity that quickly veers toward not-so-family-friendly. Then they turn, newly minted as husband and wife, both beaming uncontrollably. I feel Vince’s hand squeeze mine with crushing pressure.

“That could have been us,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “If we’d done it proper the first time.”

I turn, meeting his gaze. “You want to renew our vows?”

“No.” His laugh is predatory. “I want to feel you squirm on my cock while you wear white and pretend you’re pure.”

Heat floods my core immediately. Some things never change. Vince snarling filthy words in inappropriate places is one of those things.

“Careful,” I whisper back, “or I’ll take you into that confessional and do some very unholy things to you.”

His eyes darken to midnight. “Promise?”

The reception is held in a converted warehouse by the river, transformed into a winter wonderland of crystal and ice. Vince and I move through the crowd, playing the roles we’ve come to know so well—legitimate business owners, devoted parents, pillars of a community built on blood money and secrets.

Sofiya stays glued to my hip, wide-eyed at the opulence surrounding her. She’s too young to understand that her father once tortured men to death in places like this, or that I’ve covered up murders and fabricated evidence to keep our family safe.

One day, she’ll know everything.

But not today.

“Rowan.” Grigor’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He stands before us, champagne in hand, looking oddly normal in his tuxedo. “May I hold my granddaughter?”

I transfer Sofiya to Grigor’s arms, watching carefully as she studies his face with innocent curiosity.

“Da-da?” she asks, confused.

“No, solnishka,” Grigor corrects gently. “Grandfather.” He bounces Sofiya in his arms, and she rewards him with a broad grin. “She has your eyes, Vincent. But everything else…” His gaze flicks to me. “That’s Petrov.”

“Good genes on both sides,” Vince agrees evenly. “She’ll be unstoppable.”

The tension drains from my shoulders. Progress—real fucking progress—after months of careful negotiation and delicate trust-building.

It’s almost enough to make me believe in happily ever afters.

“Dance with me,” Vince says after Grigor returns Sofiya to us. He passes our daughter to a waiting Anastasia, who’s only too happy for baby cuddles, even on her wedding day.

Vince leads me to the dance floor, one hand at my lower back, possessive and warm. We move together in perfect synchronicity. His hand splays across my waist, fingers dipping slightly lower than propriety allows, tracing the curve where my ass begins.

“You’re glowing,” he murmurs. “And yet different somehow.”

I smile, heart thundering against my ribs. “Am I?”

“Yes.” His gaze sharpens. “Tell me why.”

I lean closer, until my lips brush the shell of his ear. “Because there’s another Akopov growing inside me.”

Vince freezes mid-step. His entire body goes rigid against mine. For one terrifying heartbeat, I wonder if I’ve miscalculated, if he’s not ready, if⁠—

Then his mouth comes down on mine, social niceties forgotten as he claims me in front of everyone. He makes Daniil’s kiss with Anastasia on the altar look like a schoolyard peck on the cheek.

When he breaks away, his eyes blaze. “You’re sure?”

“Doctor confirmed it yesterday. Twelve weeks.”

“Twelve weeks?” His brow furrows. “And you’re only telling me now?”

“I wanted to be certain. After last time, with the false positive…” I trail off, remembering the devastation, the complicated grief of mourning something that never existed. “I couldn’t go through that again.”

Understanding softens his features. His palm slides to my stomach. There’s nothing to feel yet, no external sign of the life forming inside me, but the weight of his hand there feels like an anchor.

“Another warrior for the Akopov legacy.” Pride suffuses his voice, but there are other things, too—wonder, humility, gratitude.

This pregnancy feels nothing like my first. Then, I was terrified, alone, convinced Vince would see our child as an inconvenience at best, a liability at worst.

Now, standing in his arms as he looks at me like I’ve hung the moon and stars, I feel only joy. Fierce, all-consuming joy.

“You’re happy?” I search his face for confirmation.

His laugh is incredulous. “Happy doesn’t begin to cover it, Rowan. I’m fucking transcendent.”

We dance through three more songs, lost in our private bubble of exhilaration. When Anastasia finally interrupts to return a fussy Sofiya, Vince takes our daughter with gentle hands and hoists her high overhead.

“Sofi,” he asks, “how would you like to be a big sister?”

She blinks at him and smiles. She doesn’t get it, but she will soon enough.

Vince’s eyes meet mine over Sofiya’s dark curls, and the raw love I see there nearly brings me to my knees. This man who has killed without remorse, who has built and destroyed empires, looks at his daughter and wife with such tenderness that it fractures something inside me.

“I need air,” I say suddenly. “Watch her for a minute?”

I don’t wait for his response. I’m already pushing through the crowd toward the terrace doors. Outside, the night air hits my lungs like salvation, cooling my flushed skin. The Hudson River stretches before me, dark and silent, carrying secrets to the sea.

“Hiding from your own party?”

I turn to find Natalie standing in the doorway, champagne flute in hand. She looks beautiful in deep burgundy, her hair longer than I remember.

“Just needed a moment.” I gesture for her to join me at the railing. “Congratulations. The event planning is flawless.”

She smiles, taking the compliment in stride. Not that long ago, the sound of her voice would have sent rage spiraling through me—my closest friend, paid by Vince to spy on me for years.

But time and shared trauma have tamped down the edges of that betrayal. When she stood by me after Andrei’s death, helping fabricate evidence to protect Vince, she proved her loyalty ran deeper than money ever could.

“I have something to ask you,” I say, diving straight in. “Something important.”

Her eyebrows rise. “I’m listening.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Her smile is immediate, genuine. “Rowan, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

“And I want you to be the godmother.”

Natalie freezes, glass halfway to her lips. “What?”

“You heard me.” I turn to face her fully. “I want you to be this baby’s godmother.”

“After everything I⁠—”

“After everything,” I confirm. “You made mistakes. So did I. But when it mattered, when Vince’s life was on the line, when Sofiya’s future hung in the balance, you were there. That’s worth more than anything else.”

Tears fill her eyes, threatening to spill over. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Probably not,” I agree with a wink. “But you’re getting it anyway.”

She laughs wetly, dabbing at her eyes. “Then yes. I’d be honored.”

Relief surges through me. Our friendship will never be what it was—too much has happened, too many secrets and lies between us—but this new relationship, built on hard-earned trust and painful honesty, might be stronger for having been broken.

“How’s Arkady doing?” Natalie asks, recovering her composure. “I haven’t seen him at the office since… well, since the shooting.”

Something in her tone makes me glance at her sharply. “He’s better. Physical therapy is kicking his ass, but he’s trudging through it. Doctors say it’s a miracle he survived.”

“And he’s here tonight?” Her attempt at casualness falls comically short.

“Inside, probably harassing the bartender for stronger vodka.” I study her with growing amusement. “Why do you ask?”

A blush creeps up her neck. “No reason. Just… professional concern.”

“Bullshit.” I laugh, genuinely delighted by this unexpected development. “You like him.”

“I don’t⁠—”

“You do.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “And that’s okay. He’s a good man. Loyal to a fault.”

“He tried to kill your husband,” she reminds me.

“And then took a bullet for him.” I shrug. “Complicated relationships are kind of our brand around here.”

Natalie bites her lip, considering. “Do you think he’d… I mean, would Vince allow⁠—”

“Vince doesn’t control who Arkady dates.” I pause. “But he might kill him if he hurts you. So there’s that to consider.”

She laughs, the sound genuinely happy, and I realize how long it’s been since I’ve heard it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s so perfect, the idea of the two of them together, that I have to forcibly keep myself from grinning like a lunatic. After everything Natalie’s ex put her through—making her a mom and then a single mom in the span of a year so he could go ball out in Vegas with their life savings—she deserves a happy ending as much as anyone.

The music swells inside, drawing our attention back to the celebration. Through the glass doors, I can see Vince dancing with Sofiya in his arms. He holds her out and spins her in gentle circles as she squeals with delight.

“You look happy, Rowan.” Natalie’s voice is soft. “I never thought it was possible, after everything, but you actually look really, truly happy.”

“I am,” I say quietly. “Not always. Not every day. But in the moments that matter?”

I watch my husband tenderly cradling our daughter, and my heart swells with a love so fierce it borders on violence.

“… In the moments that matter, I’m fucking transcendent.”

Natalie smiles, raising her glass. “To moments that matter, then.”

We clink glasses, and I return my gaze to Vince, who has spotted me through the window. His eyes lock on mine, intense and possessive even across the distance. He mouths something I can’t hear but understand perfectly:

Mine.

I nod once, acknowledging the claim, and mouth back:

Always.

Later, as we’re preparing to leave, Vince pulls me into a darkened alcove, his hands instantly finding my ass, gripping hard enough to bruise.

“I want to fuck you right here,” he growls against my throat. “Bend you over that table and make you scream my name while everyone wonders where the bride’s maid of honor disappeared to.”

Heat flares low in my belly, my body responding to him like it always has, like it always will.

“Not here,” I gasp as his fingers go hunting beneath my dress. “Vince, we can’t⁠—”

“We can do whatever the fuck we want.”.

I consider protesting, but why bother? There’s something hot about a man who couldn’t give a single shit less about the rules. And when he wants you bad enough to break every single one of them…

Well, that’s hot, too.

“Take me home first,” I beg. “Take me home and fuck me properly.”

He laughs against my skin. “Patience never was your strong suit, was it, Mrs. Akopov?”

“You’re not exactly Mr. Patient yourself.”

We collect Sofiya, who has fallen asleep in Daniil’s arms, and say our goodbyes.

As we’re leaving, Arkady approaches, looking healthier than I’ve seen him since the shooting. He’s got a slight limp and he takes way too much pleasure in swinging his cane around everywhere like Willy Wonka, but it’s good to see him on his feet again.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks.

“We’ve got business to attend to,” Vince says wickedly.

Arkady shudders, never one to miss a bit. “You could’ve just said yes, you know. The vulgarity was rather unnecessary.”

“Don’t be such a prude,” I tease, poking him in the ribs.

He scowls and taps me on the shins with his cane. “Get thee away from me, wench.”

Vince snarls playfully and punches his friend in the shoulder. “Talk to my wife like that again and I’ll give you a limp on the other side to match.” Then his face eases. “Besides, you’ve got some business of your own to handle.”

Arkady’s face scrunches up. “Huh?”

In unison, Vince and I both turn and ogle Natalie, who’s standing at a bar across the room, glowing like a dime-piece with her hair in an elegant updo and her legs looking Playboy-worthy in her heels.

Understanding dawns on Arkady’s face, followed by confusion, then sheer glee. “Is that an order, boss?”

“Consider it a strong suggestion.” Vince winks. “From someone who knows how life-changing the right woman can be.”

His hand finds mine, squeezing tightly as we walk away into the night. Outside, our driver holds the door to the sleek black Bentley. Vince secures Sofiya in her car seat, then slides in beside me.

I nuzzle against him on the other side. “I love you,” he whispers into my ear. “You, Sofiya, this baby—you’re the only things I’ve ever truly loved.”

I touch his knuckles. “And we love you. All of you. Even the parts that terrify everyone else.”

He laughs softly, hands cradling my face with unexpected tenderness. “Especially those parts, if your pussy’s reaction is anything to go by.”

I smack his chest playfully. “Asshole.”

“Your asshole,” he corrects, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Forever.”

The car pulls up to our compound, the gates opening automatically to admit us.

Us. My monsters, my loves, my safe haven in a world that would destroy us if it could.

We look good together.

Later, as we lie in our sheets, Vince’s hand comes to rest over my stomach. “Do you ever regret it?” he asks out of nowhere. “Choosing this life? Choosing me?”

I consider my answer for a moment. “Sometimes,” I admit. “In the quiet moments when I remember who I used to be.”

His body tenses against mine.

“But then I look at you, at Sofiya, at everything we’ve built together…” I find his hand, interlacing our fingers. “And I realize that regret is for people who had choices.” I turn to face him, cupping his cheek. “We never did, Vince. We were always meant to find each other. Always meant to create this beautiful, terrible thing between us.”

He nods slowly, eyes simmering with that deep ocean blue. “Our children will never know what it cost us,” he whispers.

I touch his scarred knuckles. “They’ll never have to.”

As sleep claims him, I remain awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying in my head every sin, every sacrifice, every moment that led us here.

And I wonder, not for the first time, if the price we’ve paid—will continue to pay—is truly worth the life we’re building.

But then Vince murmurs my name in his sleep, arms tightening around me possessively, and I know my answer.

For him? For us? I’d burn the whole world down and make glitter from the ashes.

“Until the end,” I whisper into the darkness, “whatever it brings.”